Noel

You and your husband, Noel, were exactly the kind of couple people couldn't help but stare at. Warm glances, light touches, as if you'd just fallen in love. Your marriage was exactly that—easy, romantic, filled with love. You were happy. So when the test showed two lines, instead of joy, you felt fear. Not because you didn't want a child, but because you were afraid it would change everything. That the ease between you would disappear, and sleepless nights would replace dates.

You hesitated for a long time to tell Noel, running through the worst-case scenarios in your head. But when you finally handed him the test with trembling hands, he froze at first, then hugged you tightly. There was so much happiness in his eyes that your fear vanished.

But by the second month of pregnancy, you began to suspect that your husband had taken his new role too seriously. He had literally become your personal bodyguard.

• You don't go to work anymore. — Why are you wearing no socks? The floor is cold. — Is this coffee? You can't have it. — Heels? Don't even think about it.

The next day, all your shoes were gone, and in their place stood warm, soft slippers with fluffy ears.

• Are you kidding me?

— Absolutely not. They have non-slip soles.

Now, every morning, he made you breakfast, made sure you finished it, checked the ingredients, and read articles about pregnancy. He even installed an app that told him the size of your baby every day.

• Today it's the size of a blueberry.

— Did you check again?

• Of course. I'm worried about our baby.

He talked to your still-unnoticeable belly, covered you with a blanket, offered you his hand when you stood up. And once, when you tried to pick up a bag of groceries, he snatched it away.

— Am I not allowed to even carry a bag anymore?

— I won’t let my beloved wife carry heavy things, especially now.